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The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time


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Fic: Second Time Around (Sam/Dean, NC-17) 2of 4

Back to Part 1

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Sam: Got the flowers and your note, thanks for both, Dean. That was a really nice surprise. How’d you know I like peonies? See you at lunchtime.

Dean: Meet you down in the lobby at noon

Sam: I’ll be there

Dean: Good

The walk to lunch was quiet, Dean could tell there was a lot going on in Sam’s mind, probably even more than was swirling through his own. Once they got themselves seated and had beers in front of them, Dean finally decided to clear the air.

“Listen, Sam, I want you to know, I’d want to be with you in a heartbeat if we weren’t co-workers. But it doesn’t feel right, since I’m a VP and everything…you know, to be dating you.”

“You’d be doing me a favor, I’m planning on quitting the end of the summer anyway, going back to finish up college. I’ll just do it a little sooner.”

“Wait, you are?” Dean asked, sounding sad and surprised at Sam still wanting to do the college thing even in this Chuck-created construct.

“Yeah, I had to quit for a few years so I could get my sister squared away at school herself. Now that she’s gotten herself situated, it’s finally my turn to finish up.”

“You’re an awesome big brother, Sammy,” Dean said, admiring his little brother’s consistency, he had the same big giving heart, the same selfless spirit, the same persistence to reach his goals. For a moment he wished he could let Sam stay in this fantasy world and actually get to finish school. After all these years, it was apparently still part of the story he told himself, deep down in his subconscious. Not a big surprise though, Sam had always been a stubborn little shit like that.

“Sammy? I haven’t had anyone call me that in years,” Sam said, ducking his head down with an embarrassed smirk.

“Is it okay? For me to call you that?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, it’s more than fine,” Sam said. “But first you have to tell me why me maybe going back to college makes you so sad.”

Dean couldn’t think of what to say at first, of course he was sad to hear that Sam still wanted something that he was never going to get, not if he was in their life back home. Not if he was stuck in the Bunker with his big brother holding him back from achieving his dreams.

“You know how I was telling you about my brother last night, how we’d been so close and all. Well, he went off to school, left me behind without a single look back and it hasn’t been the same since.”

“But look at you now, you’ve made it big here. I’m sure he must be really proud of you,” Sam insisted.

“He’s not…he’s not—“ Dean couldn’t answer, because he knew that wasn’t something that had ever been true.

“Oh no, that’s not who passed away in your family?” Sam interrupted, obviously worried that he’d brought up something Dean didn’t want to discuss.

“No! That’s not—no he’s not dead, we’re just not seeing each other clearly lately,” Dean said, not sure how else to express it to his brother who didn’t know they were brothers. He looked Sam over again, seeing the difference in how he held himself, he stood taller not stooped over or trying to hide his height, his chest out with confidence, it was remarkable the difference. He wondered why that was, if it was something that his Sam consciously knew he was doing.

“That can be hard, I get like that with my sister sometimes,” Sam said, sounding so understanding it made Dean’s heart just ache.

“Your sister?” Dean asked, wondering who Sam was talking about.

“Yeah, Jo, she’s pretty much all I’ve got at this point as far as family goes.”

“Where does she live?” Dean asked, feeling a wave of sadness at his old memories of Jo.

“California, she’s in college, just started her second year at Stanford,” Sam said.

“You talked to her lately?” Dean asked, wondering how deep this story went, because last time it had crumbled almost instantly the second they had made a phone call to check out the memories they’d thought they’d had.

“No, why?” Sam asked.

“No reason, just wondering what she’d say to you trying to date your boss,” Dean said. “Maybe I should call her and ask her permission.”

“Sure, here you go,” Sam said with a grin, handing over his cellphone with a smiling picture of Jo lit up and the green phone call button lit and flashing.

Dean snagged the phone and wondered who he’d be talking to, and wasn’t too surprised when it was a recorded message for donations for a pet shelter. He passed the phone back to Sam. “You sure that’s her number?”

Sam listened to the message with worry beginning to fill his eyes. He looked down at the screen and checked the number. “Yeah, it’s always been her number, what the hell?”

“Maybe she switched her number?” Dean asked, not sure how he could help when he knew Jo was long gone and not Sam’s sister.

“She wouldn’t do that and not tell me,” Sam said.

“I’m sure she’s fine, probably forgot to pay her bill or something,” Dean said.

“That sounds like her actually. So…um, sorry, what were we talking about?” Sam asked.

Dean was surprised that his attempt to change the subject away from Sam’s nonexistent sister worked so easily, but then he remembered how it had felt in this world, how unreal and fuzzy the edges of things a step or two away from the current situation were. How it had been so easy to ignore the inconsistencies. “You and me, I was trying to turn you down because we work together.”

Sam reached for Dean’s hand again and took it in his. “Look, Dean I want to pursue something with you, and if you won’t date me if I’m working at Sandover then I’ll quit.”

“No…don’t do that, Sammy. We’ll figure it out,” Dean said, instantly hating himself for giving in so easily. He needed to have Sam stay on board at Sandover to play the game with Zachariah that Chuck and Amara had set up for them. He needed him there to learn the lesson that they’d set out for them both to learn. At least that was the excuse he was going with.

Sam squeezed his hand even tighter, but his smile was all that Dean could see. It was everything in that moment, he’d never seen Sam smile like that, not at anyone, and certainly not at him. That smile promised everything, that he’d be desired, cherished, even loved. And who the hell could say no to that? Dean knew with a sick certainty that he wasn’t strong enough to resist it.

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

Dean tried his best to work hard that afternoon, though none of it made much sense to him. The calls his secretary kept routing to his phone, the emails that continued to roll into his inbox, the only thing that kept him trying was seeing Zachariah’s smarmy grin as he passed by the office door. He didn’t trust him not to screw this up for them somehow.

“How’s it going, Dean? Got those quarterlies for me yet?” Zachariah asked, just his head leaned into Dean’s office.

Dean scowled and shook his head. “I’m not up for this right now, Zach.”

Zachariah scowled right back and pursed his lips. “That’d be Mr. Adler to you, Dean. Don’t leave tonight until you’ve left them on my desk, got it?”

Dean sketched out a sarcastic salute. “Yes, sir, Mr. Adler, sir.”

Zachariah rolled his eyes and his head disappeared from the doorway.

Dean bent over his desk, putting his mind to the task, his brain whirled with the pointlessness of it all. Producing a report that wasn’t real, in this world that didn’t mean anything for someone who really wasn’t his boss. It was taking time away from figuring things out with Sam. That was what was important to him, always was. Who knew, maybe it was involved in the lesson he was meant to be learning. That seemed like the only way out of this place, if they figured it out together. He reached for his cellphone.

Dean: Thanks for meeting me for lunch today, I really enjoyed it.

Sam: Me too, and I wish you’d let me pay half.

Dean: Dude, I’m the one that invited you, so I paid, that’s how it works.

Sam: Fine, but I’m getting the next one.

Dean: GMTA that’s why I’m texting you, work dinner just got canceled tonight, you free?

Sam: Definitely, time and place?

Dean: I’ll pick you up, outside your place at 7.

Sam: It’s a date!

Sam: Oh, um, is it…a date?

Dean: Let’s just call it dinner for now, okay?

Sam: Got it, still playing hard to get.

Dean: It’s not that, I’ll try to explain at dinner. It’s too much over texts.

Sam: Ok, it’s cool, see you tonight.

Dean: Thanks for understanding, I’ll see you.

Somehow after that small amount of contact with Sam it seemed easier to concentrate and get down to business. He pulled together all the data pretty easily, going from what the last report looked like, and then it wasn’t too hard to make the numbers fit into that format. He printed it out and left it on Zachariah’s desk on his way out. Thankfully the jerk wasn’t there because he didn’t know what he’d say or do.

Driving home he thought about where to take Sam for dinner, and what he was going to say to him. There was a lot to work out, he needed to keep his brother close but not lead him on. Sam saying he’d quit his job just for a chance to date him still was blowing his mind. Was that how his brother actually felt back in the real world? He’d always hidden his own feelings from Sam, or tried to, but maybe he hadn’t been successful. Fuck…what if he’d screwed Sam up for life? Was he supposed to be learning to let Sam go or bring him in even closer?

He pulled into his underground parking space and grabbed his briefcase. He stepped out of the Prius and hit the lock button, as it beeped he felt his skin begin to crawl with that being-watched feeling. He spun around to see who or what it was, but it was just Chuck, thankfully without Amara this time.

“Hey, Dean, just wanted to check in,” Chuck said with a small wave.

“What’s up?” Dean asked.

“Here to tell you that you’re on the right path, keep with it,” Chuck said.

“Care to elaborate?” Dean asked.

“Nope, can’t, not how we set this up, sorry,” Chuck said. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m rooting for you.”

“Are we really going to be stuck here if we don’t learn this lesson thing?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan, but I have faith in you kiddo. You’ve got this,” Chuck said.

“I know you probably think that’s encouraging, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing,” Dean said.

“Yes, you do, you were just thinking it before you got out of the car,” Chuck said, covering his mouth with his hands, eyes gone wide.

“So it is about Sam, or more like about Sam and me,” Dean said, smiling a little at Chuck’s antics.

“Yep that, and don’t forget about Jack too, he’s going to be waiting for you when you guys get back home. So…uh, that’s my cue to leave before I spill the rest of the beans, gotta go make sure Amara’s behaving in Chicago. We’re trying the pizza place that Death recommended. See you later, alligator,” Chuck said, zapping away into nothing, not even a sound of feathers accompanying his exit.

“I never thought I’d hear God say see you later alligator,” Dean said to himself as he waited for the garage elevator.

Dean was a wreck as the time to pick up Sam approached. He was all twisted up inside, especially after that visit from Chuck. There was this strong pull to just get it over with, spill his guts and tell Sam how he felt, even though they were brothers. But that urge was tempered by knowing that this wasn’t really Sam. This guy was not his Sam, and so what was the point like the rest of this stupid world?

He pulled up in front of Sam’s apartment building, his Prius gliding to a quiet stop in front of the entrance and Sam didn’t hear it. So Dean got a chance to take him in, got to look at him in the early twilight and appreciate him from behind. He let himself catalog all the feelings that Sam’s body evoked inside himself, instead of pretending they weren’t there. Screamingly possessive, blatantly lustful, appreciative (damn he’s so beautiful) and too many more. But then none of that mattered because Sam was turning and smiling and climbing into the car on the passenger side where he fucking belonged.

This is it, this is what he wants, a Sam that smiled at him like that, along for the ride, even if it was a fucking Prius he had to drive.

Dinner at the steak place went well, they both devoured their meals and made small talk. Dean could tell Sam was trying not to be too flirty or pushy which he appreciated. While they waited for their dessert to be served, Dean decided it was time to try to say it.

“I’m glad you came out with me tonight, Sammy. You didn’t have to after I’d been so weird with you the last couple of days.”

“It has been weird, but good weird, the nicest kind of weird,” Sam said with an encouraging smile he tried to hide behind his wine glass.

“I’m just going to say it, I want to be with you, and I don’t want us to wait,” Dean said.

“Do you really want dessert?” Sam asked, with an adorable breathlessness.

Dean grinned and signaled their waitress back over to cancel dessert and asked for their check. He trapped Sam’s knee between his own, pressing them together and relishing the dark-eyed look he got from Sam in response. He kept a hand on Sam their whole way out of the restaurant, and all the way to his car. Before he unlocked the door, he pressed Sam up against the door, and leaned up to kiss him. Sam met him halfway and sighed as their lips finally brushed together. Dean didn’t care then, that he was in the wrong world with a Prius instead of the Impala, it all seemed to be made right with Sam kissing him like their world of two was finally put back where it was meant to be.

They finally got into the car and Dean got them headed back towards Sam’s apartment. Sam’s hands never left his body the whole drive and he momentarily thought they were really lucky not to have crashed. Who knew Sam’s hands could be that distracting? They parked on the street under a streetlamp that was conveniently dark. And Sam’s hands and lips and tongue took over. Dean felt himself get washed away in a tide of Sam taking him over, sweeping him under in the best way.

All his hesitations flew out the car window when Sam’s hand finally landed on his hard cock, pressing into his jeans so that the zipper bit a little through his silk briefs. He groaned into Sam’s mouth and pressed his hips up into Sam’s hand. The pressure was perfect, he ground himself against Sam’s hand in little circles that turned into small thrusts. Sam’s hand moved to unbutton and unzip his jeans and then Sam was reaching into his silk briefs to bring him out, and he was stroking him so perfectly Dean thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Seriously, how the hell was Sam so damn good at this.

“God, so good, Sammy,” Dean moaned into Sam’s mouth. Sam’s lips never stopped, his tongue kept working in time with his hand. Dean’s hands felt empty, and he reached over to do the same to Sam. He soon had him in hand, jacking him in time to Sam’s movements. The noises Sam made into his mouth filled him with more lust and joy that he felt he could contain, that feeling put him over the edge, coming hard and hot all over Sam’s hand. Sam followed quickly afterwards, and Dean woke up with a start from this fantasy he’d allowed to come true.

This was his brother’s hot come beginning to cool on his hand, and he watched with a sinking feeling of horror and guilt in his stomach as Sam brought his own hand up to his mouth and licked it clean of Dean’s come. It was the hottest single thing he’d ever seen. But what the hell had he just done to Sam? His own Sam would never have—he shouldn’t have done this!

Sam’s face changed as he no doubt saw the panic on his face. He hadn’t managed or even tried to hide his reaction at all. “That was too much too fast, I’m sorry, Dean.”

He sounded so sad, and guilty and that wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all, he had nothing to feel guilty about. “No, it wasn’t. It’s not you, Sammy, it’s all me. I’m the one that’s sorry.”

“So what you said at dinner, you didn’t mean it?” Sam asked, not looking at Dean now, fumbling with his jeans, preparing to leave.

“I don’t…I can’t say—shit, I’m sorry,” Dean said, desperate to find the right words, the right explanation.

“Don’t bother, I get it,” Sam said getting out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Sam stalked into his building and was gone from view before Dean could react.

Dean put himself away and redid his jeans, he wanted to scream and cry, wail against the unfairness of it all. But Sam had been right, it was too much too fast, he wasn’t ready for this, maybe he’d never be ready for it. He sure as hell didn’t deserve any kind of happiness like this, and there wasn’t any way around it, this wasn’t really his Sam. Because his Sam wouldn’t have done that. Right?

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Part 3


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